


The Heart of Everything

by Vrashnak



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aurors, Beauxbatons, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2018-12-05 21:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11586744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vrashnak/pseuds/Vrashnak
Summary: 10 years after the fall of Voldemort, some Death Eaters are still at large. French Head of Aurors Jeanne Cognazur is sent to Beauxbâtons to protect the school from the threat her English counterpart Harry Potter had warned her against. But evil can come from anywhere… Especially within. Mostly OCs (no self-inserts), focus on Beauxbâtons & Aurors





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Les Maisons de Beauxbâtons](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/309945) by Zexyback. 



_September 9th, 2018_

The sun was barely rising when the door was blasted out. The three men inside the room had just enough time to turn their heads and quickly dive behind a nearby table before spells erupted from every direction. The youngest one took a quick glance at the door remnants, but the thick dust prevented anyone to see who was firing.

With a grim look at each other, they all drew out their wands, waiting for the spell deluge to calm down, which proved to be quicker than expected. Their attackers seemed to think their targets must have been hit by a curse (and who could blame them, for there were ray of lights exploding everywhere for a full minute at least) and began to advance carefully into the devastated room. A man's voice could be heard in the sudden silence:

"Wasn't that bad. Guess Jeanne was overestimating them..."

With a smirk, the three wizards stood up at once and silently cast curses at the people who entered. The man on the right was blasted away across the room and hit the wall with a sickening noise; he spat blood as he fell on the ground. One curse hit a woman straight in the face; she crumpled with a shriek of agony. The third spell missed his target by inches, making a hole in the concrete wall behind. Fragments flew in every directions, knocking down two men who had begun to move to help the woman whose face was seemingly melting. The attackers, caught completely by surprise, began to retreat under constant fire; only one woman stayed, trying to help the poor witch writhing as scars and burns appeared on her face. The three men periodically tried to curse them too, but the Shield charm raised seemed to hold on.

Suddenly, a blue ray flew across the air and hit the table behind which the wizards were taking shelter, reducing it to dust. Before they even had time to shield themselves, a dark cloud formed over their heads, and a powerful wind began to blow, knocking two of them to the ground and preventing them from standing up. The third pointed his wand to the crouching witch behind her Shield, but before he could even think of a spell, the floor under him seemed to melt, making him fall mid-chest in what was concrete seconds before. His fall had been such a surprise he didn't have time to adjust his position, and his wand was now stuck inside both his hand and the once again hard floor. Raising his head, he saw his defeater.

She was neither tall nor small; she looked like she used to laugh easily when she was younger, but now only small wrinkles were left to prove it. She seemed to be in her mid-fifties, but something in her grey eyes betrayed her real age; she must have been at least 20 years older. Her short brown hair was dusty as many curses had hit the walls, and a long scar was running from her right ear down to her hand, which seemed to be stuck in a claw-like position. She stopped to make sure the curse hurting the other witch was over thanks to her protector, and crossed the room to check up on the unconscious man. With a quiet voice, she called the rest of the attacking group, and made a small sign to two of them.

"Stéphane! Ambre! Please take care of him. He may have broken ribs; move him with care."

The rest of the group divided in two; one going to the witch who was trying to calm down after the pain, and congratulating her protector for her courage, and the other going to the two incapacitated men struck by the wind.

She then went to the sunken boy, who watched her with furor and resignation.

"So you've finally found me, Jeanne. You must be so proud of yourself, right?"

"Mister Launoy. For you, it will be 'Madame Cognazur', thank you."

With a gracious heel-face turn, she began to walk away, checking how the two groups were doing. She clearly had led the attack.

"The Minister will be very pleased to see you at least, and so will the Healers. I dare hope you will help us fix the damage you've done, Mister Launoy."

He snorted.

"As if you've got anything against me. The Aurors seem to attack anyone now, that's all I see... Or is it a crime to spend some time with friends without sending an express owl to the Justice Ministry?"

Jeanne Cognazur turned back to him. She seemed to enjoy herself, even if her face remained quite neutral.

"With friends? Of course not. But then you won't deny you know those two?"

Launoy looked confused, and perhaps even angry after himself. A small grin could be seen on Jeanne's face.

"You see, those two and I have a common friend. They seem to be well-known in England, and our friend has done a great deal to find them. May I introduce you? You may know him, though..."

A man, who had been busy roping Launoy's two accomplices and securing their wands, came to Cognazur with a grim smile.

"Rowle and Bode Jr won't be a problem anymore. I take it this is Mr Maxime Launoy?"

The man was slightly taller than Cognazur, with messy jet black hair and green eyes behind round glasses. He gave Launoy a disgusted look.

"Mr Maxime Launoy, this is Mr Harry Potter, my English friend. Harry, this is the third man you were looking for. We're going to have a long discussion..."

* * *

_July 5th, 2008_

"Cognazur! Would you please come to my office?"

The authoritative voice coming out of the chimney was met by a sigh as Jeanne stood up and began to walk to the now green fire. With a flick of her wand, the quill at her desk which was still writing a report stopped and stood still, waiting for the spell to be resumed. Shaking her head, she stepped into the fire and called "Minister Mekerbeche's Office!" before being warped into a burst of flames.

Mekerbeche was a tall and slender man. He was quite old, but his eyes were still full of energy, and even his detractors agreed he thought before acting. He was reading a letter when Cognazur came out of his chimney with a small cloud of ash.

"Sit down please" he told while dispersing the cloud with a small swish of his wand. "I've received news from Minister Shacklebolt."

"Good or...?"

"Both, actually. He seemed to have named Mr Harry Potter as head of the Aurors."

"The contrary would have been surprising... He's got quite a reputation, and apparently didn't steal his job."

"You're right. Potter has expressed the wish to create tight bonds with his continental counterparts. He is planning to come pay us a visit soon enough... Tomorrow, as a matter of fact. He is today in Ireland, if this enclosed planning is to be trusted."

"And what are the bad news?"

"His visit's reasons... According to this note, there are still Death Eaters on the loose. Potter seems to fear they are in hiding out of Britain... And thus probably in France."

"Can't say I'm surprised. But if it's true, they were careful enough to keep quiet..."

They stared at each other. Voldemort never extended his influence into France (Grindelwald did though, and this memory was still painful in many French minds), but they knew who he was and what he did. If some of his supporters were on the loose in France, then peaceful times were most probably behind them.

"Another thing I wanted to say. Have you heard of Professor Veridian?"

"Yes, of course. I went to his burial. He taught me, remember?"

"I forgot." he admitted. "The thing is Olympe still hasn't found anyone to replace him."

"You're not doing smalltalk here, right?" she said slyly.

"No. I want you to go to Beauxbâtons and become the new Charms and Jinxes teacher."

The silence following his words was so thick anyone would have sworn the office was empty.

"Madame Maxime is very proud of her independence, and I quite agree with her." she said stiffly.

"I am not planning to force her. But I'd like you to go and try. We need to protect the students."

She couldn't help but agree with him. The only problem was that she had to be accepted as a teacher. Mekerbeche seemed to understand her worries and smiled gently.

"I wouldn't be sending you if I didn't think you could do it. You have been head of Aurors for 6 years now with quite a record, and you won the Beauxbâtons duel tournament twice during your last two years. It would be surprising if Olympe turned you down."

She smiled grudgingly.

"Alright, alright. I'll attend the meeting with Potter tomorrow, and I'll leave to Beauxbâtons straight after that."

"Thank you Cognazur. Any plans for tonight?"

"Well... There's a match you know. Amiens Gothics versus Carnac Stonecarvers. Wouldn't miss that."

Mekerbeche dismissed her with a wave and a broad smile.

"Sure. Potter will be here tomorrow at ten. Try not to celebrate too much"

"Seeing the last results, odds are I'm rather going to drown my sorrow in eau de vie..."

The Minister laughed as the witch stepped back into the green fire, shouting "Auror's Office!". Back at her desk, she resumed the spell on her quill and began to read old files with a renewed interest.

So Death Eaters were suspected to be here, in France. While she couldn't say the possibility never occurred to her, a small part of her had hoped the English would have kept them... But the chaos in which Wizarding England had been in 1997 had lasted until the last months of 1998 when Minister Shacklebolt finally succeeded in creating a full-fledged government and in stopping the last Death Eaters before they could achieve their plan to overcome again the Ministry. With all that, and the large number of Muggleborns witches and wizards who had crossed the Channel to escape the hell Britain had become, it was no wonder some of Voldemort's followers could have sneaked their way in.

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. As if they didn't have their share of dark lunatics here. Last year she had arrested a warlock who had threatened to pour some Draught of Living Death into wine bottles if the Minister did not pass a Muggle-torturing bill. The resulting fight had made her right hand effectively unusable (luckily she was left-handed, otherwise the fight could have ended with a far worst result), but at least the wizard had been stopped. And now they would have to deal with the evilest English wizard's supporters? She had a nasty feeling years to come would be exhausting.

Her quill raised and began to gently scratch her head, waiting for the rest of the report she would write. Seizing this opportunity to think of anything else, Cognazur began to dictate the conclusion of her report, pausing only once to take a sip from a glass of water on her desk. Once done, her mind began to wander again and stopped on Potter.

She had heard of him, how he had defeated Voldemort 10 years ago, how he had risen within the ranks of the English Aurors, and of everything he had done since he had left Hogwarts. She remembered reading a note on him, and Summoned it with a negligent flick. A second later a sheet of parchment landed in front of her, and she began to read the various data they had collected on him, from his record as an Auror to his personal life. Near the end, a name caught her attention; apparently, one of his brothers-in-law had married a French woman named Fleur Delacour. She knew of her mainly thanks to her father who was the French representative to the European Magical Council, but she had made her own name taking part in the infamous 1994 Triwizard Tournament. Cognazur considered asking for a meeting, but what could she ask her? Besides, if Miss Delacour was living in England now, there was no way of seeing her before meeting Mr Potter or leaving to Beauxbâtons...

The thought of this second meeting made her shudder. She had kept in touch with some of her teachers, but to actually join them was something she had never even considered. And yet Minister Mekerbeche seemed to think she would do great... But now that she thought about it, she had been in charge of the training of applicants Aurors for 6 years now, and she even had a Spanish and a German applicant two years before, who had admitted her reputation as Auror trainer was so impressive their respective governments had sent them to get some advice, which she gladly gave. "It's no use to keep our knowledge like a closely guarded secret; we have to share it and only then will we be able to face dark magic with efficiency", she had said to them. Moreover, she considered the Storm Conjuration the German wizard had taught her a more than sufficient payment for everything he had learned from her.

A low ringing caught her attention. She looked at the clock on the mantel and saw it was already 7. Standing up, she rolled her finished report tightly and stored it into a weird looking filing cabinet which was completely empty. She closed the door and turned a knob until the words "Auror Archives - Closed Files" appeared on a small screen, then pressed a small button right under it; a swishing noise could be heard and a second later the door opened itself on empty shelves. She made the report about Potter she had been reading fly across the room and store itself neatly in a wooden box while she grabbed her cape and stepped into the chimney. Jeanne took a pinch of Floo powder and threw it at her feet. The nice warmth surrounded her at once, and it was with a broad grin, thinking only of the upcoming match, and hoping Amiens would be able to score more than 5 goals this time, that she let herself be whooshed away back home.

* * *

"Ma'am Cognazur? You alright?" asked the guard with apprehension.

Jeanne shook her head. The hangover potion was always a bit long to take effect, and she was bitterly regretting celebrating Amiens's surprising victory with passersby until past midnight.

"It's alright Martin. Just had a... Let's just say the night could have been calmer." she answered sheepishly.

"Oh, you been to the match, eh? Wouldn't've thought Rabican wou' have caught the Snitch b'fore Bazinet, he been rubbish all season... No offence Ma'am, but Gothics ain't really top notch and..."

"Thank you Martin, I'm alright. Is Mr Potter already here?" Jeanne interrupted before the guard could take her on a discussion concerning the Amiens Quidditch team's abysmal performances this season.

"Nah Ma'am, haven't seen him yet. Min'ster Mekerbeche's booked the Special Room f'your appointment though."

"Thanks Martin."

Jeanne left the guard standing behind his counter and walked away in a long corridor. The Special Room was supposed to be used only when a particularly important person was coming; she guessed Potter was important enough to deserve this arrangement. The only problem with this room was you had to authenticate every time you had to use it. Coming before the door, she put her wand on a small slot carved into the wall and waited for the door to open while a melodious voice said quietly "Rowan, Abraxan Hair, twelve inches, in use for 51 years". Jeanne flinched as the voice told so insensitively this number of years, but entered in the room nonetheless after grabbing back her wand.

The Special Room was quite unremarkable, after all. A long polished table stood in its center, and a dozen comfortable-looking assorted armchairs were gathered around it. The wooden walls had some portraits hung here and there; she went and sat under Nicolas Flamel's approving gaze. She remembered asking senior Auror Corbeil why it was called "Special", and she had answered that the Room had been used since the fifteenth century for important meetings, and thus was charmed to prevent anyone outside of the room eavesdropping or entering without special authorization. It was in this room, she had said, that the Minister had decided to side with the Revolutionary forces in 1789, that the greatest laws had been discussed, and so on. The Room was Special because of what they did in it, but it was an almost ordinary one in every other aspect.

A soft noise got her out of her thinking. She heard only the end of the sentence "11 inches, in use for 17 years" before the door opened, letting Harry Potter coming in. She caught a glimpse of another witch waiting behind him before the door closed. Potter nodded at Jeanne, but she had already stood up and was waiting for him to advance. She then heard the voice speaking again, but the characteristics were drowned as Potter spoke.

"My referent under-minister has been coming with me, I'm sorry we had no time to warn you. Minister Mek-err-bay-che was kind enough to arrange things so she could attend our meeting too, I hope it does not bother you..."

"No problem Mr Potter." she answered.  _And even if there is one, it's too late now_ , she thought.

"...inches, in use for 17 years", spoke the voice, and the door opened again, letting the witch enter. Jeanne finally could see both her guests properly.

Harry Potter was hardly taller than her, and his black hair was messy as usual. He wore round glasses, had bright green eyes, and a thin scar the shape of lightning could be seen behind a carefully placed bang. The other witch had bushy brown hair and brown eyes who were already scanning the entire room. Jeanne stood still, waiting for Harry to introduce her, which he seemed to realize a second later.

"Oh. Right. Hermione, this is Jane Cog-naz-ur, head of the French Aurors. Miss Cog-naz-ur, this is Hermione Granger, under-Minister of Justice and Law Enforcement."

" _Bonjour_." she said looking at Jeanne. " _Je suis désolée, mais je parle peu français."_ she added with an apologetic smile.

"It's no problem, Minister.  _Interpretari_!" she said, pointing her wand to her throat.

"A Translation charm? Impressive, Miss Cog-naz-ur." said Hermione Granger.

"Thank you. But my name is actually pronounced 'Conyazur', and it's 'Jeanne', not 'Jane'." she added, looking at Potter, who seemed embarrassed. "Just saying so you can try. And by the way, it's more 'Meh-curb-esh', not 'Mek-err-bay-che'."

"I will try."

"Shall we sit down then?" she asked. Evidently, Granger and Potter were waiting for her approval, as they didn't dare approach the table before she had proposed to sit; but as soon as she had finished her question, they darted to the armchairs in front of her, and sit almost at once. She couldn't help but smile as they both looked puzzled at her standing, but she helped them by sitting shortly after.

"French étiquette, you know. We had lessons at Beauxbâtons concerning how to behave in society. Don't worry, not all French will comply to those... But we have more urgent matters to discuss."

"Absolutely." answered Granger. "What do you know about Death Eaters?"

"They were Voldemort supporters, but that's all I know."

"And that's pretty much it, actually." said Harry. "There were something like forty of them, and we thought we had them all locked up But recent reports seem to point to the contrary."

"Have you heard of the Sealand Storm last April?" asked Hermione

"What, the storm which hit those small islands? I don't really see the problem with that. I mean, in the middle of the North Sea, what else could you expect?"

"It was no natural storm." answered Harry. "We were here with a handful of Aurors. And we weren't alone..."

The following ten minutes were filled with a detailed account of what had happened there. Apparently the Aurors had been suspecting the country (if one considered Sealand to be a country) to be inhabited by the remaining Death Eaters, and had sent a small force to arrest them, but the fight had been hard and some of them had escaped. The Aurors had only found some sort of deserted alchemy lab, and the arrested Death Eaters did not say anything during their trial.

"So they've clearly been up to something. And Legilimency did not give you any clue?" asked Jeanne

"No, answered Harry. They were all accomplished Occlumenses... And besides, the Minister was all too keen to announce some more Death Eaters had been jailed, so the investigations were rather short."

"But they clearly were doing more than a reunion of Voldemort's old friends." added Hermione with a smile, which made Harry chuckle. Jeanne suddenly remembered the memo she had read the day before; Hermione Granger was Harry Potter's friend, and had helped him during his infamous year spent chasing Voldemort. The hangover potion seemed to have finally cleared her mind of all the alcohol she had drunk last night.

"Sure. Nonetheless, the five Death Eaters who escaped could not be found anywhere in England... And we began to suspect they may have fled overseas. But they can't be far, the MACUSA told us they had their own way of discerning unauthorized immigration since the Scamander incident."

"And this is why you are doing a European tour? To warn governments of lunatics who may have landed months ago?"

"More or less." replied Harry with a smile. "The thing is, we know their names and appearance. And we can solemnly swear they are up to no good."

Hermione let out a laugh; it was obviously some kind of private joke between them. Jeanne cast a look at the portraits Harry had handed her. On top of the small pile was the file of someone called Thorfinn Rowle; she decided to read those after the meeting.

"Thank you. We'll be on the lookout for them. What are your plans for today?"

"Harry wants to attend tonight's match." Hermione answered slyly. "Holyhead Harpies against Quiberon Quafflepunchers. I wonder why." she added with false interrogation in her voice.

"Oh, come on, Hermione. Wait until Bulgaria, and we'll see who'll be laughing."

"I can offer a small Ministry tour, but I have an appointment in Beauxbâtons this afternoon." said Jeanne, uncomfortable watching them teasing each other.

"We'll be glad to visit, thank you. But to be honest," said Hermione as she returned to a more serious face, "I have an appointment with Minister Le Batelier (she stopped there, glancing at Jeanne, who nodded approvingly at her pronunciation). We'd like to promote Franco-English cooperation, and Fleur Delacour has accepted to be our spokesperson; we'll mostly be discussing details. Harry?"

"I'll be glad to take the tour, thanks."

"So be it. Madam Cognazur (she clearly had been silently working on her pronunciation during the meeting), Harry."

She stood up and made it to the door. Harry and Jeanne followed shortly after, and went back to the Main Hall. Harry looked awkward while walking alongside Jeanne, but tried to break the silence.

"You know, you remind me of my Transfiguration teacher."

"I'll take that as a compliment." answered Jeanne politely while taking him to the Auror bureau.

"It was. She is an exceptional witch... And demanding too."

"Any teacher should be demanding. You can't be pleased with acceptable magic from your students, yet it is no use to force them doing things they clearly don't have a knack for."

"You MUST know her." he said with what sounded like a suppressed laugh. "But that's not the point. So, how long have you been head of Aurors?"

"It's been..." She calculated quickly "6 years now. I was promoted after Avelaine Corbeil retired. Minister Girdeau thought I suited the post well... Looks like he wasn't wrong after all."

"I can only hope to be as good as you are. I've read a summary of your career... Quite impressive."

"I can say the same of yours, Mr Potter. Head of Aurors so young... Minister Shacklebolt clearly trusts you."

"Yes. What's more surprising for me is that senior Aurors have apparently backed him in promoting me."

"They trust you too. It's important to be trusted by your team. Only then you'll be able to bring out the best in them."

He stayed silent, apparently pondering what she had said. While talking, they had arrived to the Auror's Headquarters, and Jeanne made him enter. The office was almost empty, only for an ill-looking wizard with a goatee and brown hair even messier than Harry's who greeted Jeanne warmly. She introduced both wizards to each other before going to her own office. Harry looked at the filing cabinet with great interest, and accepted gladly Jeanne's proposal to go to the rest area and drink a coffee. They sat and made smalltalk during an hour, talking mostly about Quidditch (Harry had apparently played Seeker while at school), and discussing the upcoming match (Harry's wife had played Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, and he and his wife had kept in touch with the whole team). By the end of the hour, both of them were on first-name terms, and began sharing souvenirs; Harry was a good-natured person, and Jeanne felt like she could trust him, and her instinct had never been wrong. Casually checking the hour, she was surprised to see it was already noon, and apologized to Harry as she stood up. He smiled and asked if he could use the training space this afternoon, which she gladly accepted.

As soon as she had left the rest area, Jeanne was back to her usual self and cast all her mind on the upcoming appointment with Madame Maxime. She had had only one job interview before, and it had been a mere technicality as she had done her internship at the Auror Bureau; she definitely didn't know what to do. She expected she would have to display strong knowledge in both theory and practical magic, but apart from that, she was completely lost. She didn't even know the current Headmistress; Jeanne had left Beauxbâtons two years before Olympe Maxime had been hired as Transfiguration teacher.

She came back to her office, hoping to get some more work done, but she couldn't focus for more than a minute before coming back to her appointment. She Summoned a sandwich from a small plate in a corner of the room, and began to eat while thinking of the consequences of her being eventually welcomed at Beauxbâtons.

First of all, she would have to decide what to do of her small flat near the Ministry. After a small minute of reflexion, she decided to keep it. After all, she didn't need any more money than she already had, so better not to sell it. Besides, she didn't felt much like moving everything to the accomodations she would maybe have.

She let her gaze wander around the room. She still had two full hours before her Portkey left, and yet she felt as if Madame Maxime would enter suddenly.

Jeanne stood up and began pacing in annoyance. She had led the Aurors for six years now, had arrested countless criminals, and she had even saved High Judge Ostrowska from a particularly inventive murder attempt involving a dozen Boggarts and a Mirroring Charm. Why should she be afraid of a job interview?

She got a grip on herself and smiled. She had nothing to fear from Beauxbâtons, and she suddenly felt more confident than ever. Grabbing another sandwich, she went back to her desk and began to read the files Potter and Granger had given her. She didn't stop until a soft voice coming from her clock told her she was to be at Beauxbâtons in thirty minutes and that her Portkey left in 5 minutes. She put back the various sheets inside the folders and stored them all in the Sorting Cabinet, setting the knob on "Confidential", and stopped for a second to check her deep blue robes, waving her wand to remove the crumbs. Satisfied, the witch grabbed a small golden pin and waited, standing up in the middle of her room. When the clock started ringing, she felt the usual hooking behind her navel, and a second later she was in front of a huge ornamented wrought iron gate.

She hesitated for a second before stretching her hand to grab and pull a small chain connected to a golden bell which didn't make a sound, even though it had been almost horizontal for a moment. The door opened before her, and she came back in the park of Beauxbâtons for the first time in decades.

It was exactly as she remembered it; a huge French formal garden, with carefully pruned hedges, and here and there fountains with statues representing witches, wizards, beasts, and many other things. The trees looked ancient, and the shadows they cast looked welcoming in the blazing heat of July. The flowerbeds around the fountains were all covered by small daisies, either white or blue, and in the middle of this thick flowery carpet the crests of the different advanced formations, all made using the flowers they bore; lilies, blue roses, tea flowers, and most important in Jeanne's eyes, deadly nightshades.

She smiled fondly, remembering all the things she had done while she was here; turning all the water from the fountains a shocking pink, dueling this dumbhead - what was his name... Vandenbrucke ? - who had been loudly explaining that "girls just can't be bewitchers, they are too fragile and delicate" (she had had a particularly vindicative pleasure of muting and hexing him while his little crew was watching), the first kiss she had exchanged under the oak... She blushed at that particular memory.

"Madame Cognazur?"

Jeanne looked around and saw the man who had called her. He was tall, with long black hair tied behind his neck, and a small goatee. He looked hardly older than 30. He went and bowed before her before speaking again.

"Madame Maxime is waiting for you. May I lead you to her office?"

"Of course, Monsieur... I'm afraid I don't know who you are."

"Where are my manners? Julio Ayala, Herbology teacher, and Head of the Gardeners. I hope you find the park well cared for."

"Exactly as I remember it", Jeanne answered, and Julio looked extremely contented. "Shall we go then?"

"This way, Madame."

They left the great park and went on a great paved alley. The castle could barely be seen behind a tall hedge, and Julio was actively discoursing on the various gardening techniques and the flowers he and his team used in the park, effectively making it one of the most beautiful gardens in Europe. Small and delicate rotundas were on each side of the alley, leading the way to an arch in the hedge. Once passed, Jeanne could finally look at the castle entirely.

It was a perfect example of the Renaissance french castles, and Jeanne had always thought it was quite like Versailles. Great stairs led to ornamented doors, and huge windows lightened the facade, otherwise heavily decorated with carvings and statues of great magical personalities. Over the main door the crest of Beauxbâtons was sculpted, and just under it the motto "Cum spititum et nobilitam" was written on an elegant stone ribbon which was enchanted to slowly wave as if it was made of cloth. The witch remembered the first time she had passed this door, shivering and fearing whatever was awaiting her. Decades later, she was back, afraid again, though this time she had an idea of what to expect behind those doors. Mr Ayala opened the door, and they entered into the Waiting Hall.

Once again, Jeanne felt as if she had travelled through time. The magnificent hall was empty except for a huge statue of Isabelle de la Barre, the first Headmistress of Beauxbâtons. The walls were covered with paintings of witches and wizards displaying magic feats or brewing potions, one or two just sitting behind a desk and thinking. Julio turned to her and said with a smile, pointing a real-size portrait of a good-natured witch:

"Madame Maxime is waiting for you."

Jeanne walked to the portrait and stood there, unsure what to do next. But the painted witch smiled and spoke to her:

"You wish to see the Headmistress?"

"Actually, I think it's more the other way round."

"Well then... who shall I announce ?"

"Jeanne Héloïse Cognazur. I am here to apply as Charm and Jinxes teacher."

"Yes, the Headmistress warned me. Come in." she added with an even greater smile, as the portrait swung and revealed what looked like a simple cavity in the wall, yet Jeanne could feel the magic shivering. She stepped forward and found herself inside not a small niche, but a great warm room with shelves everywhere and a beautiful desk, behind which a woman was sitting. The Transportation charm had been completely smooth.

The Headmistress was clearly taller than any other person Jeanne had ever met. She was really handsome, with an olive-skinned face and beautiful great black eyes. She raised her head and made a small gesture, inviting Jeanne to sit on a comfortable-looking armchair. Once seated, the Auror waited for the Headmistress to begin.

"Thank you very much for your appliance. I have to say I am a bit surprised to see Jeanne Cognazur in front of me."

"May I ask you why?"

"Well, one may think being Head of the Auror bureau is already a good carreer choice, isn't it?"

"I have never been one for staying at the same place for years."

"So you were," said Olympe Maxime with a small nod," and so you have come. And actually, I don't think I will ever find a better candidate for this post."

This sentence took Jeanne off-guard.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't think anyone is more suitable for this post than you", she repeated, "and I have excellent reasons. Firstly, during your Auror carreer, you have displayed prodigious feats and anyone reading the news knows that. Secondly, Professor Veridian always spoke of you in high terms, and even mentioned your name when asked for a possible successor. And finally, I will personally sleep much better if I know I have at least one teacher here who would be able to protect the students if Death Eaters were to come."

Jeanne was thunderstruck. She had been expecting many things, but surely not this. Her nonplussed face made Madame Maxime smile.

"You don't really think Minister Mekerbeche didn't tell me a thing?"

"Well..." Jeanne hesitated, but she couldn't think of anything.

"Alright. Now this is settled, I'd like you to arrive on the 15th of August with the other teachers. Do you wish to live in the castle? There is a free appartment."

"But you surely won't be hiring me only because my  _resume_  says I am capable, right?" Jeanne asked.

"Come on, Madame. I wouldn't offer you this job if I didn't think you weren't suitable. And I have never been wrong about a teacher before. Besides, I have asked you to be there in mid-August so more experienced teachers will be able to help you. And you will have full access to Victor's notes; his lessons are still perfectly up-to-date, you know?"

Jeanne hesitated again. But deep inside, a small voice was already telling her it was the right thing to do. She had begun to grow tired of hunting Dark wizards, and the perspective of facing nothing more dangerous than a hormone-filled student was somehow enviable. She finally smiled and nodded:

"Alright."

"Perfect! And concerning the accomodation?"

"Consider it occupied from now."

Both women were now smiling. Madame Maxime rummaged in a pile of papers and gave Jeanne a small form.

"The fifteenth of August. Your accomodation will be ready. I am really looking forward to working with you."

"Thank you, Madame the Headmistress."

Madame Maxime giggled and shook her head.

"Call me Olympe, Jeanne."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay for this chapter.
> 
> Feel free to review or point any mistake.

_21st of August, 2008_

"All teachers are asked to gather in the Staff Room today at noon to discuss the start of classes. Thank you."

The disembodied voice woke Jeanne up better than a Stinging Hex. She had dozed off long after midnight while reading the various notes of Professor Veridian, but at least she knew her teaching program by heart and she felt completely able to handle her upcoming students.

Since she had moved to the castle of Beauxbâtons, she had progressively met the other teachers. Of course Julio as the Garden Master (he looked very proud of this nickname) was staying during the holidays, but Jeanne was quite surprised to discover many other teachers were living full-time in the castle.

The morning after her arrival, she had met Mr Delatour, the Divination teacher, a middle-aged man with a long beard and a dreamy look whose appearance was so cliché he could have posed for Merlin without anyone noticing. She had little to no contact with him, as he preferred to wander the castle alone.

On the contrary, the Potions Mistress, a young witch of Algerian descent named Leïla Djoudi was so cheerful it was hard to dislike her. She had spent the first few evenings with Jeanne, helping her sorting the numerous sheets of parchment Veridian had left. Apparently the whole concept of "tidying" was completely foreign to him, and both witches were quite astonished to find some "interesting" magazines in all the mess, along with letters coming from "Bad Witchy Mistress" which left almost nothing to the imagination. They had conjured a vault to store those, and had drank many glasses to try to forget.

The more summer advanced, the more teachers were coming back. Jeanne successively met the Transfiguration teacher, a stern-looking man named Adrien Sutter who was yet surprisingly talkative, a tall man with long hair who introduced himself as "Professor Olivier Badinga, Astronomy teacher", Professor Elise Heng, an old witch who was teaching defensive magic and whose main hobby seemed to be taking care of everyone, and so on. In fact, only three teachers were still missing: the Runes and Languages teacher, the History teacher, and the Curses and Dark Arts teacher, whom Jeanne was looking forward to meeting.

While wolfing down her breakfast (which had as usual been sent to her room on a silver plate by the house-elves), she mentally checked a final time her teaching program, and was relieved to find out it was still firmly there, mainly thanks to the - not supposed to be taught- Instant-Memory Charm she had applied to herself before browsing the notes.

Once she had finished her meal, she got out of her room, turning the key to make the door lead to one of the rotundas in the park behind the castle rather than the usual corridor. The fresh wind coming down from the surrounding Pyrénées finished to wake her up, and she sat a bit, enjoying the pure air all around. After a while, she stood up and walked amongst the carefully trimmed bushes and the magnificent flowerbeds.

She recalled her first walk through the park, and the first time she came across the flower-made crests. She had had the courage to ask an older student to explain her the meaning of those crests, since they were everywhere.

"Oh, those are just the symbols of the paths you can choose in your third year." He had told her. "See, tea flowers represent the way of the Seer, lilies for the Enchanter, nightshades for the Bewitcher, blue roses are the Alchemist, and borage the Healer." He had smiled before asking her "So, which one will you choose?"

"Errrrr... I..."

"You'll have time to choose, don't worry. But if you want to really kick asses, you'd better take the Bewitcher." He had winked and had pointed to a small deadly nightshade on his robes. "No one will want to defy you if you can answer with more than words." He had then left her and had gone back to his boyfriend who had been waiting a bit farther.

Jeanne had learnt a year later what those ways had to offer, but it hadn't took her much time to make up her mind. The prospect of being able to defend herself, and a strong inclination for practical magic had led her to the Bewitcher way. And every single time she had learned to cast a counterspell or to brew an antidote, she remembered this conversation.

"Hey! Jeanne!"

She turned her head and smiled; Leïla was coming her way, with a huge mug of coffee hovering behind her. The Potions Mistress was addicted to cafeine and always had a hot cup nearby. She had tied her long hair in a braid, and the sun made her look like she was still a student, especially since she was easily a head smaller than Jeanne.

"So, ready for your first Teacher's Council?"

"It's not like I have much choice, eh?"

"Sure" Leïla smiled. "But there's nothing to worry about. Besides, I guess you've had to cope with far worse as an Auror, right?"

"Can't deny it" Jeanne answered.

"Shall we go then? I'd rather wait in the room a bit than be late, and you'll be able to meet the last teachers."

"Lead the way."

Both women went to a rotunda, chatting and laughing. The door in it was ajar; Leïla closed it and took a small key in her pocket. The key, though far smaller than the keyhole, seemed to fit perfectly as Leïla turned it to the left. A series of clicking noises could be heard, and the door sprung open.

The room it revealed was almost disappointing comparing to the castle. It was really simple, with a small round table in the middle, and bare stone walls with only the coat of arms of the School over the chimney. As the women entered, two chairs appeared around the table. As soon as they sat on them, two frames appeared on the walls, each representing one of them, with their names written underneath.

"It's easier this way, rather to have a small cardboard with your name in front of you" said Leïla.

So they waited. Jeanne conjured a cup and asked for some coffee, which Leïla gladly offered from her own cup. She cast a Replenishing Charm every now and then on her own. When Jeanne marveled at the coffee (which was better than any of those she had drank before), the Algerian witch smiled.

"I made this coffee 5 years ago. It was just so good, I thought I'd never be able to make another one matching it, so the Replenishing Charm seemed like the best idea. My cup has an Ever-Heating Charm cast on the bottom, and it was enchanted to always stir the coffee and never spill a drop."

"But... You're the Potions Mistress! You surely can brew another coffee!" said Jeanne, baffled.

"Yes, but this particular type of coffee is very expensive, and I don't have much left. And quite frankly, I've grown so used to it, I don't think I could ever drink another one."

The door opened, distracting Jeanne. The newcomer was a big man with a neglected look. He had short brown hair, a small goatee, and even if his expression was neutral, his eyes were cheerful, as if behind the grown man, the teenage prankster he must have been was ready to step in. He made a small bow to greet the witches, which made Leïla laugh and comforted Jeanne in her good impression.

"Come on, Hervé! Don't you think you're a bit old-fashioned sometimes?"

" _L'élégance à la française, ma chère_ ", he answered with a smile before turning to Jeanne. "So you are the new Charms and Jinxes teacher, am I right?"

"You are, sir. Jeanne Cognazur, at your service."

"Cognazur? You're not possibly the same Cognazur who's Head of the Aurors?" said Hervé, taken aback.

"The very same" answered Leïla cheerfully. "You'd better check your case twice before bothering her."

"And actually I left the Office to Ms. Aquilet a month ago. But I still have some connections, in case you're up to something" she added with a smile. "But I don't think I know your name, my dear sir."

"But where are my manners! Hervé Delage, Curses and Dark Arts teacher."

The man sat down with a little smile, apparently very pleased with himself. Jeanne paid no attention to the new portrait which appeared on the wall; she was too busy analyzing the man some more. But he distracted her by speaking again:

"My dear Lady Cognazur, as an Auror, you must have acquired some impressive skills, am I right?"

"Call me Jeanne. I think one can say so, yes."

"Would you mind if we duelled?"

Leila laughed while Jeanne's eyes widened. The last time she had been asked for a duel was the year before taking the head of the Office during the International Symposium of Offensive Magic and Counter-Curses, and her opponent had been flattened in a matter of minutes. The event had been largely covered by various newspapers; and since then, no one had dared defying her. Jeanne had even heard some of her ministry co-workers saying they'd rather face whatever Dark wizard coming to France than her.

"Are you sure of that?"

"Actually, no. I'm pretty sure you're going to win, but given my job and the fact I'm supposed to be in charge of the Duelling Tournament, it is my duty to defy you", he answered with a smile. His expression made Jeanne laugh.

"I think that for your own good, it would be best if we let this matter drop."

They continued chatting for a while, and were finally interrupted by the sudden arrival of a large group of teachers, filling every seat at the table save for the Headmistress's. The walls were now completely covered with portraits and names, allowing Jeanne to identify everyone.

Suddenly, a bell rang loudly, stopping every conversation. The door opened, and Madame Maxime entered with a dignified step and a broad smile. She nodded to the crowd and sat down. Behind her, under the crest of the school, a magnificent full-length portrait of her appeared. She looked at everyone and finally began speaking.

"My dear colleagues, I am very pleased to meet you again. Before we start, however, I'd like us to make a minute of silence in memory of Professor Veridian."

Everybody stood up. From the corner of her eyes, Jeanne saw Leila hiding her mug of coffee, and could not help thinking of what they had found in the mess Veridian's office was. She struggled internally to keep a composed face; after all, she had been Veridian's student, and from now a teacher. After a minute, Madame Maxime sat down again, followed by the teachers.

"Thank you. Now, allow me to present you the new Charms and Jinxes teacher: Jeanne Cognazur. Jeanne?"

She took a deep breath and nodded.

"Well, hello. As Madame the Headmistress said, I am your new colleague. As you may know, I was Head of the Aurors until this summer. I just hope this position will be safer than the previous one."

Some laughs were heard, and Elise Heng winked with a mischievous smile. Jeanne turned to Madame Maxime with a silent question; the Headmistress nodded in agreement as soon as their eyes met. Jeanne spoke again.

"Apart from the obvious pleasure to be back here, there is another reason for me to be here. According to informations we received from the British Ministry, Death Eaters could have fled to France."

The cheerful mood seemed to vanish in a second. Now everyone was looking at Jeanne, mostly with an expression of shocked disbelief. Madame Maxime continued:

"Minister Mekerbeche and I had a talk in July. It is sadly true. Jeanne is here not only to teach, but also to help us protect the students. Now, we have no proofs that Death Eaters will try to take over the school... But I have to say I feel better knowing we have someone as experienced as Madame Cognazur with us."

The tension seemed to lift a little. The Headmistress smiled.

"Let's go back to lighter matters, shall we? This year's studentship should be around 5 thousand pupils, with 1,900 first and second years. Dormitories have been expanded in order to make room for everyone. Élise, do you still agree to be Head for the First Years?"

The meeting went on for an hour and a half, during which Jeanne found herself regretting the Ministry meetings. At least she could always pretend to have an emergency to leave, whereas here… When Madame Maxime declared the end of the meeting, she had to resist the urge to run away from the room. But before she could get out, the Headmistress called.

"Jeanne, Hervé. A word, please."

When the room was finally empty except for the three of them, Olympe spoke again.

"Jeanne, could you explain to Hervé the Malfoy incident?"

Jeanne, rather surprised, obliged and recounted to her colleague how Draco Malfoy succeeded in making Death Eaters enter Hogwarts in 1997. Hervé listened intently, interrupting only to ask for more details. Once she had recounted the whole story, Madame Maxime spoke again.

"You see, Death Eaters have already shown that they would use any means to achieve their ends. And while I am not as important as Dumbledore was, I can't say I do not fear that some of our students may be… attracted to their side. That's why I'd like you to keep a close eye on the student body this year… Especially on Enchanters or Bewitchers. Please report any suspect behaviour to me. And please, make sure the students in question stay unaware of your surveillance. I'll leave up to you to choose the most appropriated methods."

Jeanne and Hervé left in awkward silence, which was broken only when they reached Leila who had waited for them (Jeanne noticed her cup was full again). By unspoken agreement, neither Jeanne nor Hervé told to Leila what the Headmistress had asked them; but since Leila made a point to avoid the subject, it didn't really matter in the end.

 

* * *

 

_2nd of September, 2008_

36 students. 36 teenagers with their full attention turned to her. 72 eyes scrutinizing her. Despite her experience and the complete absence of threat, Jeanne was intimidated. She had had to teach people before, but neither that much, and nor for that long. And worse of all in her eyes, that was one of her smallest classes; when she had learnt that she could be speaking before a hundred first years, she seriously considered to resign. But Leila had reassured her by saying that lessons for first and second years were given by only a handful of chosen teachers, and she would only be teaching to third years and higher… which still represented several 30-something classes.

She took a deep breath and gave a look at her schedule. She was supposed to have the fifth years from the Nightshade for now. She finished her coffee, and stood up.

"So. Good morning everyone. As our Headmistress told you yesterday night, I am Jeanne Cognazur, your new Charms and Jinxes teacher. Professor Veridian left a reasonable amount of notes concerning your progress last year, so we should be able to start rather quickly. This year, we will… Yes Miss?"

"Cassandre Loiseau. Are you Miss Cognazur from the Auror Office?"

Jeanne sighed. Of course, pupils this year would know her… She felt this question would come back in nearly every lesson.

"Yes, I was. I resigned this summer to take this teaching position. Now this matter is cleared… Yes?" she said with resignation when Cassandre raised her hand once more.

"Is it true you defeated Philippe Marot in a duel?"

Jeanne winced slightly at this name. The scar on her arm was a far too vivid reminder of Marot.

"I did. He got me by surprise and caused this though" she said, holding her claw-like right hand high so everyone could see. Jeanne could even see one of two students look away. "But yes. I did overcome him. Anyway…"

"What kind of jinx made this?"

Jeanne frowned, yet this unexpected question gave her an idea on how to get back the control on the lesson.

"It was a… creative… use of a mundane spell. That was what caught me by surprise. But sometimes, the simplest jinxes are the best way to win. And this is precisely the subject of our lesson. I think you all know the spell Stupefy?''

A murmur of approval went through the room. Jeanne pressed her point quickly.

"Well, today we'll see the Impediment Jinx. It's harder to master than the Stupefy since it can only target a part of the body. Of course if you put all your might into it, you'll probably be able to affect the whole body, but it's supposed to be extremely localized. Now, the Impediment jinx…"

All in all, this first day could have been worse, Jeanne thought as her last class of the day left. And after all, her previous job was quite a help; in every lesson, a student had asked her about a specific arrest she had made, and that had provided a good starting point for her lessons. She was packing her stuff when Hervé Delage came in.

"My dear lady! How was your first teaching day?"

"Exhausting and fulfilling. What do I owe this pleasure?"

"Well, I was hoping we could have a talk about your students. Have you seen any suspect behaviour?"

"Not a single one", she answered. "But I only had six classes, and I frankly doubt any student would reveal oneself before their teachers on their very first day here."

"You're right. Still, I've been talking to Leila; she hasn't spotted anything suspicious either. I guess we'll have to wait."

"Yes. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm starving."

She left her classroom with Hervé, but they hadn't reached the corner of the corridor yet when Jeanne's watch began speaking:

"Under-Minister Granger and Minister Diaconescu would like to meet you right now in your office."

Hervé looked with interest as Jeanne got her watch out.

"How come your watch can do this?"

"It's a small enchantment I put on it; it's linked to my chimney and so I always know when someone's trying to contact me. Tell them I agree", she added while pressing a small knob on her watch.

"Impressive and creative", said Hervé. "Then I take it you won't join us to dinner for the moment?"

"I'm afraid I won't. Tell Olympe I'll try to come later."

Jeanne went back to her office, entering just as green flames burst from the fireplace. Two witches stepped out, taking time to cast a Refreshing Charm to get rid of the ashes. Jeanne crossed the room to greet them.

While Hermione greeted formally Jeanne, the French Minister of Law and Justice went for a warm embrace; they used to hang out a lot as long as their respective careers allowed them to. Helena Diaconescu looked a lot like her younger self, with a perpetual smile and long red hair she let loose; the only difference Jeanne could tell were the numerous wrinkles around her eyes. Jeanne broke the embrace and made two comfortable chairs appear out of thin air.

"So, what brings you here?"

"Well, Minister Granger came to my office a bit earlier to discuss the matter of Death Eaters in France. Madame Granger, would you please?"

"Of course." Jeanne noted she was clearly speaking in English, but the words she was hearing were French; she guessed the British witch had cast a Translating Charm on herself during her previous appointment. "Well, Harry -Mr. Potter- has recently arrested some of those who had escaped during the Sealand Incident. Minister Shacklebolt agreed to keep it quiet for the moment, so we could investigate more."

"Wise decision", Jeanne said.

"Yes. Thanks to this, we know more about the whereabouts of some of those who are still at large. Apparently, only a handful of them crossed the Channel; we expect no more than five are currently hiding within your borders. I took the liberty to bring you their files, just in case."

Jeanne took the small pile of parchments and put it on her desk, next to the homework list she had given and a list of students she had identified as "dissipated".

"I shall be reading that right after you left."

"And concerning the task Madame Maxime gave you?" Helena asked.

"Apparently, no students seem to be particularly prone to fall to the Dark Arts… But it's only my first day here, and I still have classes I have to meet. Yet Professor Delage made the same assumptions for the moment."

"Good. Let's hope it will stay this way."

The three witches continued their improvised meeting for half an hour before Jeanne remembered she still hadn't eaten. When Hermione suggested they should leave, Jeanne protested and pulled a small rope hanging over a silver tray, which filled up at once with far enough food for the three of them, and the witches ate while talking until well past midnight.

 

* * *

 

The days went and became weeks; before she knew it, Jeanne had made it through September, and she had found herself -much to her surprise- quite up to the task, just as everyone had told her. Her reputation made her various classes behave, even if she suspected at least three students to prepare something. But her primary objective was still in her mind, and she kept all classes under scrutiny. Minister Diaconescu had requested a weekly report, but for the moment, Jeanne hadn't spotted anything. So, when Hervé came one evening after her classes to ask her if she would agree to help him arrange the Duelling Tournament, she accepted without a second thought.

Beauxbâtons had always been quite up to propose various extra-curricular activities, ranging from the classical Quidditch tournament to the Magical Music Contest; but one of the most awaited events had always been the Duelling Tournament final, holding place in the last week of May ("So that the nurse can patch up the losers before the exams", as a sixth year had told her when she had asked after she first heard of this tournament). More than a hundred students took part every year to this contest, even if sometimes their contribution was only to be flattened soundly as soon as their first duel began.

As Hervé explained to Jeanne, things had changed slightly since she herself was a student. Now there were five different tournaments running at the same time, one for each year starting from third. The finals now comprised semifinals, and to allow for some impressive feats, were held outside in the Quidditch field. The first duels wouldn't take place before the last days of November, in order to hold some intensive duelling classes for those who felt the need. The various points were covered in a little more than twenty minutes, which was a pleasant surprise to the former Auror, far too accustomed to the three-hours-long Ministry meeting in which the final decision was to schedule another three-hours-long meeting the next week. They even took the time needed to plan all the duelling classes for the next two months before she left his office.

While walking down the corridors leading to her own office, she reminisced of her own participation to the Duelling Tournament during her last two years in Beauxbâtons. It had been a great occasion to let off steam before the exams, even if her internship at the Auror Office had clearly given her an edge over her competitors (now that she thought about it, it was more of a cliff) and she had flattened everyone on her way. But her first participation… She would never forget the awe in the looks of her fellow students, nor the pleasure in her teachers' eyes when she had used a delayed transfiguration to defeat her opponent, and even less his mix of shame and anger when he had fallen to her trap.

She considered reusing one of her old Auror master classes, but quickly shot it down. As far as Beauxbâtons was concerned, the Tournament was supposed to be as friendly as possible; the classes she had given didn't bother with that. Besides, with the potential risk of a student being attracted to the Dark Arts, she didn't really fancy taking the chance. She went through most of the classes she remembered before the illumination; with a mischievous smile, she closed her office door. She had some work to do.

 

* * *

 

"So," Jeanne started, "you're here to learn some of the various techniques which may eventually allow you to survive more than a minute in a fight, should it last that long."

"Most duels last no more than a few seconds," Hervé added. "So anything that can give you an edge can be what will lead you to victory."

The fifty-something seventh-year students were listening intently. Jeanne and Hervé had set up some master classes for the various years that were allowed to take part to the Tournament; but they hadn't expected they would have to close the registration the day following their opening. Apparently, neither Hervé nor Jeanne (nor Leïla, who had agreed to give some master classes to the fourth and fifth year) had realized that proposing an extra curriculum in "flashy bangs and knocking people out", as Leïla had put it, would be so popular.

“What if the duel drags on?” asked a burly student.

“Then you’ll have to resort on other ways to surprise your opponent. Actually,” Jeanne continued, “any duel can be brought down to a contest in which you’ll win if you can do something unexpected.”

Some students nodded to that. The burly teenager who had talked before had a thoughtful face.

“Now, since you’re in your last year here, you should all be at least familiar with non-verbal spells.” Hervé said with a small grin. “This is the first step. How else can you conceal the spell you are casting?”

His question was only answered by silence. He went on:

“Please, look at this target up there. I’m going to cast three spells at it.”

All looks focused on Hervé drew his wand out. He slashed the air thrice, each time casting a differently coloured bolt. His target now had a hole in its centre and was lightly smoking. Looking quite pleased with himself, he turned back to his audience and asked:

“Which spells have I cast?”

“A Stupefy, an Impediment, and a Reducto?”

“How did you identify them?”

“The Stupefy and the Impediment are distinctly red, though the Stupefy is a bit brighter. For the Reducto, the effect was quite clear, but it’s the wand motion.”

“Correct for the most part. I did cast a Stupefy and a Reducto, but no Impediment.”

The students looked nonplussed by this information. Hervé was clearly enjoying mindboggling people, Jeanne thought.

“My second spell was a Confundo.”

“But sir, the Confunding charm produces no light!”

“Precisely. And that is the whole point of this class. You will learn another way to disguise your spells, by making them appear to be another one.”

Jeanne had to suppress a smirk while seeing the faces of the students, who all looked like they had been hitten by a particularly motivated Beater.

“So,” Hervé said, “we are going to split you into two groups. But before we start, I'd like to clarify something. Altering the apparence of the spell isn't something anyone can do. Most people actually cannot do it at all, or only on basic spells. I, for one, haven't been able to do so until very recently, and even now I still can't do it on most spells. The Confundus Charm is somehow easy to alter, since it can't usually be seen; but any visible spell will be much harder to alter, if not properly impossible.”

Hervé turned to Jeanne, who nodded curtly.

“You have to understand that you will be trying to mess with the very structure of the spells,” she added. “It requires control on both your magic and yourself to achieve that. I know that some of you have taken Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, you may find that your experience in those subjects may make it easier for you. We will be first discussing the theory, and then you'll try on targets we will provide you. Finally, we have obtained from the Headmistress that this room will always be opened for practice.”

Hervé had a smile while Jeanne spoke those words. Olympe had accepted to leave a room opened for the Duelling Tournament training almost instantly, since Jeanne had begun her request with a long and quite painful explanation of the various security measures that would be enforced on this particular room to prevent any accident. At least twenty charms and five wards would be cast on this room, not mentioning a spying device and a hidden door leading to the office of five different teachers.

In no time, students had formed two groups. Hervé led one to the opposite wall quickly, and erected a transparent wall in the middle of the room to prevent any accident. Jeanne turned back to her students and started her explanations.

Changing the appearance of a spell was a recent discovery made by the Chinese Arithmancian Fa Lin, and even if she hadn't understood all of the paper published in _Practical Arithmancy and Magical Theory_ , she had grasped enough to at least conceal some of her spells (she had noted with smug satisfaction that she could alter her Stupefy while Hervé couldn't, but had decided against pressing the point) and explaining how to do so. From what she had read, the appearance of the spell was some kind of “default value” depending on its primary effect. In order to set the appearance on something else, one had to “add” to the spell the fact that it should look a certain way. Easier said than done, since the caster had to balance carefully how it was added in order not to completely drown the desired effect into pure display. This feat required whether a thorough understanding of how a spell worked, or a skilled teacher with this level of knowledge.

Those articles were the reason why Jeanne had subscribed to most of the magical journals. While it was sometimes interesting to read an article about the “Spell Chaos Theory and its Long-Run Consequences” (also known in the Auror Office as the “Curse Critical Failure”), nothing compared to practical applications like this one, especially when she could use those against her co-workers during their training sessions. Still, while she was explaining to her students the mechanics behind a simple spell, she felt as if she had always been made to teach. The witch realized she was taking a far greater pride in her students' attention and success than in any of her feats during her time at the Auror Office, and resolved to give them the best she could.

Half an hour later, her group seemed to have understood the basics of the Appearance Alteration, as Fa Lin had put it. Jeanne made targets appear from thin air, and let them try their best. Minutes later, Hervé joined her. They stood in the middle of the room in silence, watching their students cast spell after spell in a bright display of color. A few of them seemed to be halfway to succeed; while they were shouting the Confunding incantation, their spell seemed more visible than before, yet their targets distinctly shivered when hit. Jeanne had explained to them that the Practicing Targets would only move if affected by a proper spell, so that they could easily make the difference between a disguised spell or an harmless firework.

“Well, this went smoother than expected”, Jeanne said with a smile.

“I agree. I expect this year's Tournament to be a lot of fun.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

It had been two weeks since the duelling classes had opened, and apart from two accidents mostly due to bad aiming and even worse luck, nothing suspicious had come from this unusual concentration of students allowed to use offensive spells without any physical supervision from a teacher. Jeanne was quite enjoying this fact, and even began to wonder if the Death Eaters who had apparently came to France would dare to attack the school. Perhaps they had just gone straight through to the borders?

She had taken the time to read the files Minister Diaconescu and Minister Granger had given her, but all in all, she could have read any file from any so-called “Dark Wizard” back at her office. Apart from their names and description, the men had done nothing she hadn't seen, not to say they were completely innocent. As usual, the crimes of their master tended to overshadow his followers'.

The only surprising thing had been a letter from her former English counterpart. Mr Potter had thanked Jeanne for her reports and sent both his and his wife Ginny's congratulations for her new job, along with an invitation to the European Quidditch League finals taking place in December and a request to come during summer to London. She still hadn't replied, but had informally warned Minister Diaconescu about this offer before putting Mr Potter's letter in her “To-Do” box along with some copies; those same copies she was trying to review, all while listening to a live broadcast of the Quidditch match between Amiens and the French League leaders, the Angers Watchtowers.

“De Cleyre's got the Quaffle and flies towards the Watchtowers' goals, dodging a Bludger and she shoots and... Nice stop from Auger, throws the Quaffle to Thielen, Thielen still... Now excellent shot from Beater N'Diaye, he really has a knack in giving his Bludgers an umpredictable trajectory, De Cleyre's got it back, Nemethova, De Cleyre again, back pass to Gersan who shoots and GOAL ! Amiens takes the lead in this match, sixty – forty, and...”

“Jeanne ?”

Jeanne almost jumped, called back to reality by a soft voice. Leïla had passed her head through the opened door and looked worried, something Jeanne had never seen on the usually cheerful witch.

“I knocked but you didn't answer, so I was wondering...”

“No, sorry, just lost myself in Quidditch” Jeanne answered sheepishly, turning her radio off while pushing aside the stack of copies that were almost all unreviewed. “What's the matter ?”

“Well... You asked me to come and report any suspect behaviour from a student.”

Jeanne tensed up. Seeing Leïla with such an expression on her face was quite disturbing, she thought.

“Tell me.”

“Maxime Launoy, from the fourth-year Nightshades. We were learning the Shield Charm. I don't think it was an accident.”

“What do you mean?”

“I... I think he did it on purpose”, she said, all while speaking faster and faster. “He says he didn't and that the spell just got out of control, but I have never seen a Shield doing this, even when it's cast by a complete beginner, and...”

“Calm down”, Jeanne ordered with a gentle tone. “It's alright. Breathe.”

Leila closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath, regaining composure. When she began talking again, her voice was far calmer.

“We were studying the Shield Charm you see, especially how to cast it not only around you but also a bit farther. I had divided the class in pairs, each student taking turns in attacking the other with a harmless spell. But then there was a small explosion and Launoy's opponent – Marianne Sambona, you know her? - just crumbled on the floor. Apparently he had cast the Shield Charm just around the tip of her wand, and the spell hit her straight in the face... She's alright, just her nose broken, Miss Para healed her in a second”, she added when Jeanne could not hide her concern anymore. “Marianne couldn't tell what happened, except her spell went less than a centimeter away before coming back to her.”

Jeanne remained silent for a moment, pondering what Leila had just told her. Sure, it could have been caused by an inexperimented caster of the Shield Charm losing control on the spell and allowing it to grow too far; but on the other hand, out of control Shields tended to lose their efficiency quite quickly. From what Jeanne knew from Marianne, her spell, harmless as it was, should still have shattered a Shield gone rogue. For it to bounce back on it could only mean two things.

“What was Launoy's reaction?”

“He just stood there. He did absolutely nothing.”

“Do you remember if he was angry?”

“No... I don't think so. He's always extremely calm, and things were going smoothly from what I recall.”

Jeanne shook her head. That was what she had feared. Still, a part of her was asking for prudence; after all, it wasn't unusual for fast learners to try new uses of spells while duelling; her own experience tended to prove so. Moreover, people never acted the same in this kind of situation; Launoy may just have done a mistake after all. Then an idea struck her.

“Leila... From what you told me, it could well have been an accident, and no lasting harm was done. Yet you thought it was suspicious. What's the deal with Launoy?”

Leila hesitated a second before answering.

“He... Since last year, he has frequently been involved in accidents like this one. A Light Sleep Potion in which he added too much nightshade, spreading vapors in the class. During an Herbology lesson, a Devil's Snare managed to pass under its restrictive personal greenhouse and almost strangled another student. And the list goes on. It could be unrelated of course, but still... He's been involved in more accidents like this than the whole of the seventh-year Enchanters!”

Jeanne shook her head, her hopes vanishing.

“I see. Well, I'd better keep track of him. Thank you Leila, really.”

Leila just nodded and gave a sad smile.

“Maybe it's nothing, and he just have a severe case of bad luck.”

“I'd rather not take the risk”, Jeanne answered warmly.

“Sure. I'll be going then, if you don't mind. Got some potions from the fifth-year Healers to mark.”

Jeanne smiled guiltily when Leila pointedly looked at the stack of copies on her desk.

“I see. Good luck with it. I'd better get going too.”

Jeanne waited for Leila to leave before she turned on the radio, hoping the match was still going.

“...ing straight to the goals, she's going and wait a second, Rabican dives suddenly, followed closely by Liamel, they're going shoulder to shoulder, and meanwhile goal for Amiens thanks to De Cleyre, Sen in possession for Angers, and a Bludger sent to Lamiel who dodges, and Rabican is hit I think, he lost his focus, Lamiel still diving, another Bludger but nice interception from Shuan, Lamiel goes and SHE'S GOT THE SNITCH! SHE GOT IT! ANGERS WINS, TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTY TO NINETY!”

Jeanne sighed. On second thought, she would have prefered the match to finish a bit sooner.

* * *

 

“Well, that was unexpected.”

Jeanne had to admit she envied Madame Maxime for one thing: she always looked like she was completely in control. Even learning that one of her students was clearly prone to dangerous mischief had only made her slightly frown, as though it was no worse than a quill shortage.

“So you're telling me that you asked me to come here for... Student's pranks?”

On the other hand, Minister Diaconescu had a flabbergasted look. Jeanne nodded curtly to answer her question.

“Jeanne. You must have something more to tell us. I mean, I trust you, but still.”

“Then if you trust her, where's the problem?” Olympe said dryly.

“We can't act on _suppositions_! We have to be sure! We can't just go and arrest this boy just because he did some pranks!”

“One of those 'pranks' included releasing a Devil's Snare on fellow students”, helpfully reminded Jeanne.

“ _If_ he really did it! You don't have anything to link him to this! For all we know, Mr Ayala could have made a mistake and...”

“My dear Minister”, interrupted Olympe, “I thought I made myself clear minutes ago. I have complete faith in my teachers' abilities and conscentiousness.”

“Yes, I heard you. But still...”

“Helena. I didn't ask you to intervene”, Jeanne interjected, taking upon herself to defuse the whole situation. “I just wanted you to be here while I told you the last elements we had. I'll keep this boy under careful scrutiny until we can definitely say if he's dangerous or not.”

The three witches stood silently for some minutes before Minister Diaconescu finally spoke.

“Alright. I leave it up to you to do whatever is needed. Just keep me informed if you get into anything conclusive. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to leave.”

Without waiting for an answer, the Minister dashed out of the office, leaving Jeanne and Olympe in an awkward silence. Finally, the ex-Auror spoke.

“I'm sorry for putting you in this situation. Minister Diaconescu has always been... impulsive, to say the least.”

“I would have found out myself, actually. Still, you were right in asking her to come. If you and Leila were right, you would have had to explain to her why you didn't say everything earlier.”

Jeanne nodded, fully aware of the situation she had found herself in. The lesser of two evils, she thought dryly.

“Thank you for your patience Olympe. If you allow me, I still have some copies to review, and I'd better do it before my next lesson with the involved students.”

Olympe smiled warmly and let Jeanne go with a wave of her hand. Jeanne crossed the threshold of the Headmistress's office and found herself in her own, where everything was precisely where she had left it. Everything, if one didn't take into account the crimson smoke that was coming from a small vial on her shelves.

The vial was part of the monitoring system Jeanne and Hervé had put on the Training Room. It was supposed to emit a colored smoke according to the severity of the situation, red being the worst case possible. When she saw the smoke, Jeanne ran to a concealed door and a second later stepped into in the Training Room, wand out and ready to intervene.

The room was completely filled with a light mist, that was more an inconvenience than a real handicap. She spotted Hervé near the practicing targets; he was on his knees, overlooking an inconscious student, while a boy was sitting less than a meter away, rocking lightly back and forth, whining. Jeanne couldn't understand a word of what he was saying, but it didn't matter for the moment. She was far more concerned with the boy who was laying facedown. Hervé didn't acknowledge her presence with more than a nod; he was in deep concentration, his wand still and pointed on the student's head, muttering spells under his breath. Jeanne patted his arm lightly before going to the shocked student. She kneeled next to him silently; now she was near, she could understand his laments.

“Paul... Paul... Please... Paul...”

Jeanne raised her wand and silently cast a Lulling Charm on the boy, which progressively calmed down. When he finally stopped rocking himself, she spoke in a soft voice.

“What's your name?”

“Guillaume Dricta. I'm a fifth-year Enchanter.”

“And your friend?”

“He's my little brother Paul; he's a fourth-year Bewitcher.” His voice, although soothed by the Charm, was still carrying his worries.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“We went here because Paul wanted to practice for the Tournament. He wanted to try to master the Stupefy before the lesson came. He had taken notes from a book in the library on how to properly cast it. He was reading them while I activated the Practicing Targets.” His voice began to go faster and faster while he continued. “Then he told me to step back because he was going to try, so he pointed his wand, and then, then there was an explosion with a bright light, and when I could finally see something, there was this mist everywhere, and Paul was lying down and it's all my fault I should have told him to wait, Paul, please wake up, Paul...”

Jeanne rested her hand on his wrist and cast another Lulling Charm, this time making it a bit stronger. Guillaume breathed deeply before resuming his explanation with a calmer tone.

“I tried to cast an Ennervate, but it didn't work. Then Professor Delage came and told me to stand back, so I did. Then you came and you asked me to recount everything, and I did.”

Jeanne nodded briefly; a side glance told her Hervé was nearing the end of his intervention. She could recognize the wand motion being those of a Painless Charm; she had used it more often than not when she had been an Auror, and it had always been one of the last spell one had to use when dealing with someone hurt. At least that meant the younger boy was off the hook.

“Guillaume. You told me the explosion happened when Paul pointed his wand to the targets?”

“Yes.”

“Did he cast a spell?”

“No.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“Yes.” Even though his voice was calm and his body had stopped twitching, his eyes were still full of fear and concern.

Jeanne nodded again, briefly squeezed his wrist, and went back to Hervé, who had just put his wand down.

“He'll be alright”, he said without preamble. “Miss Para will have to check him, and I'm afraid Leila will have to brew some remedies, but there shouldn't be any lasting consequences for him.”

“That's a relief. Now, let's bring them to the Hospital.”

Jeanne quickly conjured a litter under young Paul and made it rise slowly; then, in a swift motion, she made it move slowly towards the Hospital wing, which was thankfully near the Training Room (this had also been a determining factor in its choice).

The Hospital main room was empty, except for the nurse, Miss Para, who was doing paperwork at her desk. When the four people entered, she raised her head, then went to them so quickly Jeanne would have swore she had Apparated. When the nurse asked for an account of what had happened, Jeanne obliged, mentioning the charms she had had to cast on Guillaume. The nurse nodded and began a quick examination of the unconscious student, which ended when she rose him from his litter to gently lay him in a nearby bed. Guillaume let himself be dragged to a bed just next to the first one, and curtains were quickly conjured and drawn around both beds. Jeanne and Hervé waited while the nurse made Guillaume drink a Sleeping Draught and cast a few notifications spells so that she would know whether they were awake. Then she came back to them, and led them to her office, which she shut down.

“So. Hervé, ya did the investigations, eh? Whaddaya say?”

“This is extremely fishy. Paul looked like he had been hitten by a powerful curse, far beyond what he could have cast. The curse seemed to have been a frontal hit, coming from one of our targets. And this mist was strange too, though completely harmless. I'll have to conduct more investigations.”

“'Kay. Jeanne, what about Guillaume?”

“He's shocked, but totally safe. He's extremely worried for his brother of course.”

“Yay, sure thing. Gonna have'em sleep a while, then I'll have'em nicely checked. But from whatcha tol'me, shouldn't take long. Should go back to their dorms 'morrow. Tell me if ya come 'cross som'thin, eh? Don't wanna miss a thing 'cause I haven't got all pieces.”

“Of course Janine. If we find anything else, you'll be the first to know.”

Both teachers left the Hospital and went back to the Training Room. The mist had begun to wane; Jeanne lost no time in conjuring a vial to try to store some. But as she was uncorking the vial, Hervé called her. She turned her head and immediately understood why; he was moving his hand through a band of mist, but he couldn't perturb it in any way; unlike usual mist, this one was there, insensitive to any airstream, moving around them, even through them, as if it wasn't in the same dimension, even though it seemed confined to the room; the mist didn't seem to be able to go through neither the walls nor the open door.

Hervé went back to the target from which the spell had apparently been cast while Jeanne tried her best to alter in any way the mist before it could disappear; but ten minutes later, when the last small cloud of mist had dissolved into nothingness, she hadn't been able to do anything remotely efficient. Meanwhile, Hervé didn't seem to have any luck either in his investigations; his wand motions were betraying his annoyance, and he finally accepted his defeat.

“Did you find anything?” she asked, trying not to sound too bitter.

“Nothing.” Hervé made no effort to hide his disappointment. “The spell could have come from the target itself, the wall behind, or even just have backfired, I couldn't tell. What about you?”

“I can't tell either. This mist disappeared slower than a sleeping Flobberworm, and yet I couldn't trap it in anything. It just didn't enter the vial, even when I tried to transfigure one around it.”

“Do you think Guillaume could have done a prank...”

“No”, she interrupted. “It doesn't fit. He was clearly shocked, and the Lulling Charm should have eased him enough so he would have told me.”

They stood up in an awkward silence. In all her carreer, Jeanne had never felt so helpless -apart from the Menton incident, but she repressed that particular memory-, and she hated it. Hervé pinched his nose and sighed.

“Well. I guess we won't find anything more here. I'll be in my office, trying to sort this out.”

“So will I.”

Both teachers went away to their offices. It was only late afternoon, but Jeanne was exhausted. She sat at her desk and looked at the Notification Vial which had stopped smoking. The witch sighed and swished her wand, summoning a bottle of ink, a quill, and a long roll of parchment. It seemed she would finally have something to write in her reports.

* * *

 

After the incident, Jeanne and Hervé, along with Leïla and Elise Heng, decided to tighten the security. They had cast more charms on the room and the targets in it, and had put an Identification Charm on the threshold, linked to a charmed book in which all students and teachers were noted along with their hours of arrival and departure. Despite all this, or maybe thanks to it, no other incident happened. Paul Dricta didn't remember anything remotely helpful, but at least he had no aftereffects. Even the first rounds of the Tournament had no more injuries than usual, and Jeanne even enjoyed herself during the sixth and seventh-year rounds. Some fifth-years also caught her attention; apparently, despite all her grumbling and dismissing of the master classes, Leïla had clearly done more than her share (and seeing how she had cheered during some duels, Jeanne suspected the Potions Mistress of playing an act). So when the Christmas holidays finally arrived, with all students coming back home, Olympe just replied to Jeanne's request to leave for a week with a smile and asking if she wanted any other obvious answers.

She would never admit it, but her first semester as a teacher had been exhausting, and not only because of her extra duties. Around mid-November, the boldest of her students had finally tried to set an innocent prank; even though she had thwarted the attempt with ease, this first act had lead the way to a number of small heckles in her lessons, and she had had to display some of her Ministry-renown Death Glare (she had seen some years before a joking “Grade-A Threat List” on one of her fellow Auror's desk, and had discovered that her glare ranked seventh) to tone it down.

Thus, it was with a mix of nostalgia, delight and tiredness that she crossed for the first time in more than four months the door of her flat in the 21st arrondissement of Paris, also known as the Magical Arrondissement. Everything was precisely where she had left it, and apparently her Anti-dust charm had performed its duties well. She came in and looked at the clock on the wall, checking if she had time for a nap before anything else. Less than a minute later, she was laying on her bed, still in her travel robes; a quick flick of her wand to lock the door, and she fell asleep before realising it.

Two hours later, she was woken up by her Alarm Charm; she stirred lazily, and began a headcount of what she had to do. Of course, she would have to go and buy some food; perhaps she would also take the occasion to just go shopping with no other purpose than having a bit of a good time. And tonight, the Holyhead Harpies would be playing against the Freiburg Firespitters; she had the places given to her by Harry, and she knew of someone who would be delighted to come with her. She was planning of dropping by her place after shopping; the mere prospect of seeing her sister made Jeanne smile. After all, it had been almost six months since they had last seen each other.

She took just enough time to change into Muggle clothing. Not that there were any risks for a Muggle to see her while she went shopping; the whole 21st arrondissement was only inhabited by witches and wizards, as its nickname subtly reminded. But her sister, the one person she wanted to see, could not afford the absurdly high prices of a flat here (even if Jeanne had over and over again offered her help), and thus lived in the Common Paris, in a building which was property of the Ministry of Magic. She cast a look in the great mirror next to her wardrobe to check if her outfit wasn't too fancy, and went out to the Magic Halls.

If the Muggle Paris was a dream for most Muggle tourists, the magical one wasn't left behind. Wherever Jeanne looked, she could see travellers from everywhere, running from shop to shop, discussing the latest historical monument they had visited, or just strolling through the streets. The Magic Halls were the heart of Magical Paris, a rallying point for every lost witch or wizard, an essential step for anyone coming to Paris. Jeanne had always loved the Halls building; its outside was true to its origins, a simple covered market place for wizarding people. In the middle of the place was a great descending circular staircase, serving each of the seven floors. Somewhere in time, Gringotts a erected a building right next to the market, a two-stories bank which, as usual for something Goblin-handled, went underground for more kilometers than one could ever imagine. While Jeanne made the short trip to her own vault, she had an amused thought for the Minister who had had to deal with the creation of the underground and the RER, just to prevent Muggles to bump into existing rails and gold-full crypts.

The back and forth trip to her vault took Jeanne less than ten minutes, yet she enjoyed greatly going back outside. She took some time to regain some composure inside one of the many cafés that lined around the Halles before stepping on the descending part of the enchanted staircase.

Jeanne loved shopping in the Halles. The first floor welcomed all food shops, along with two apothecaries. The witch hurried to her favorite market and placed her order with practiced efficiency. The House-Elf she gave her list to bowed and hurried to the back shop; Jeanne knew her order would be ready in less than five minutes, but she had told Hoppy – if the badge the Elf wore pinned to his towel was to be trusted – she wouldn't be back before at least an hour. She left the shop and strolled a bit before taking the stairs again.

The next two two floors were devoted to magical fashion – Paris, magical or not, was _Paris_ – and even if she tended to favour practicality over appearance, it was always a delight to take a look at the latest outfits from Gladrags or Modesty. She didn't enter any shop from those floors, but she was glad the staircase was slow enough to allow her to have a clear view to the shopping windows. When the staircase brought her to the third floor, she stepped out, passing under a huge sign on which was written “Third floor - Gifts and toys”. She made a beeline to Gladgifts where she bought some presents for her family and friends, then bought some fine bottles for the Christmas dinner from a small shop. Once done, she shrank her packages and put them in her small pouch she had tied to her belt. She took the staircase again and went to the fifth floor; the fourth floor was home to more cafés and restaurants, strategically placed in the middle of the layered shop complex. When she arrived, she had a wide smile.

The fifth floor was actually filled by two shops. Right in front of the landing stood the wand shop, currently owned by Mrs Flamant, whom Jeanne particularly liked since they had been to school together; it had been her father who had crafted both of her wands. But the already small Wandmaker shop was dwarfed by its neighbour, the huge bookstore Victor's Volumes.

Jeanne knew perfectly well that without this shop, her errands would probably take fifteen minutes, Gringotts included. But the bookstore was just too attractive to her. She could (and often would) spend hours wandering through the shelves, grabbing any tome that would catch her eyes, or just dreaming before the luxury books that had a devoted aisle. She had to make a conscious effort to go straight to the point and went to the Periodic Aisle, where she took the compendiums gathering all issues of _Transfiguration Today_ , _Enhanced Enchanting_ , _Spells & Science_, and _Annals of Arithmancy_. The heavy tomes were promptly shrunk and disappeared in her bag as soon as she had paid the fifty-seven Galleons the cashier asked her.

It had been months since she last went shopping like this, and Jeanne felt elated. True, she loved living in the castle, and her new job was much safer and rewarding than the previous one, but Beauxbâtons was quite isolated in the Pyrénées. She had placed many owl-orders since August, but she preferred by far to actually see her purchases before buying them. With a flick of her wand, everything went to its righteous place, and Jeanne left her flat less than five minutes after coming back, heading for Muggle Paris.

* * *

 

“I'm coming, I'm coming!”

The voice behind the door, though muffled by the heavy wood, sounded as if its owner was in a hurry. Jeanne grinned and called.

“It's me, Morgane.”

“Jeanne?”

The door opened suddenly, and a second later Jeanne was off her feet, embraced in a hug by her sister.

“Oh Jeanne! It's been ages! Come in, come in, I was about to make some coffee.”

Both witches went inside, carefully closing the door after them. The reason behind the hurry Jeanne had suspected moments before soon became obvious; the flat was filled to the brim with magical research instruments, and a blackboard on the wall was covered with undecipherable writings. Also, the owner of all this bric-a-brac was still in underwear, although it was late afternoon. Jeanne was far too accustomed to her beloved sister's habits to care as long as she was fine. Morgane came back minutes later with two steaming mugs of coffee she laid on a small table, summoned her dressing gown with a snap of her fingers, and sat in a comfortable-looking armchair, while Jeanne was already on a pouffe, her legs crossed.

“So, how are you doing down there?”

“Quite well. Students behave much more than we did.”

“How many have you threatened of exchanging their arms for their legs?”

“Not a single one”, answered Jeanne, laughing. “But you know, I checked and there are still marks of our last-year party.”

“Oh that was memorable... I'm surprised no one ever cleaned that up.” Morgane laughed too at those memories; they had put up a small party when they had got their exams results, to celebrate the end of their studies. To put it mildly, things had went out of control quite quickly.

“Perhaps they couldn't. I'm pretty sure at least two teachers got involved.”

Both women paused a moment to drink some coffee before Jeanne spoke again.

“What about you? You seemed to have made a lot of progress in your last letter.”

“Well actually yes. Do you want a detailed explanation, or just an overview?”

“Go for the detailed one, I'll tell you if I'm left behind”, she answered with a wide smile.

“I've been trying to determine the reasons why some objects cannot be enchanted while others can, you know, and apparently it has something to do with the inner structure of the subject, which sometimes is in complete opposition to the structure of the spell. One has to take into account that both spell and subject have to be at least similar in essence to properly work together. Look, I'll draw an exemple here...”

Fifteen minutes later, Jeanne had her head buzzing with magical theory, arithmancy, and something Morgane had called “fizzics” and “kemikals” which apparently were Muggle disciplines which described how things behaved. The long and thorough explanation had been interesting, but she couldn't say she wasn't happy when her sister finally said that she wouldn't go further into details, since she still had some things to clarify.

Morgane went back to her armchair and took her now cold coffee back; while she heated it again with a snap, Jeanne took out the tickets she had carried all day.

“Morgane, you still enjoy Quidditch?”

“Why of course!” she cried, spilling some coffee. Jeanne smiled; her sister had been a Chaser after all, and she was even more a Quidditch fan than her.

“Well, I've made myself a friend who has some connections and... I _may_ have two tickets for the European League final tonight. But of course I would understand if you preferred to conduct your researches...”

“Oh _come on_! You know perfectly well it's been ages since I last went to a match! Who got you those tickets? It's sold out since April!”

Jeanne's smile widened. She knew Morgane would have reacted that way, and she took a mischievous pleasure in anticipating her future response.

“Well, I've met Mr Potter, Harry Potter, you see. He's quite nice actually, and so is his wife, Ginny Weasley, I'm not sure if you know her?” The look of bewilderment on Morgane's face was priceless; of course she would know Mrs Weasley's name, since the former Chaser had been the best scorer for her team on her second year. “Nevermind, they sent me those. So if you want to come with me, just say yes.”

Morgane almost screamed her approbation and embraced her sister in a bone-crushing hug. When she finally let her go, Jeanne took some time to get her breath back, all while her sister was preparing her satchel and her coat.

“Morgane?”

“Hmm?” she answered absentmindedly, all while looking for her shoes.

“I understand you're eager to come”, the former Auror said, failing at hiding her amusement, “but I _think_ you may have to put on some clothes.”

 

 


End file.
